What Doesn't Kill Me
by Alla Bethony
Summary: Roy and Ollie's relationship first went sour two years ago, all because the man who was supposed to be a father figure decided his wards fate was no longer his problem.  My rendition of Snowbirds Don't Fly. Rating brought down to 'T' by request.
1. Day One

**Title: What doesn't kill me**

**Author: Alla B.**

**Rating: M for language and adult themes**

**Summary: Roy and Ollie's relationship first went sour two years ago, all because the man who was supposed to be a father figure decided his wards fate was no longer his problem.**

**My rendition of Snowbirds Don't Fly**

**Part 1 of 7**

My name is Roy Harper. I have done some very bad things, things that I'm not proud of. What people don't understand is that I no longer have an option. These things have made me into a completely different person…

"I still don't understand why anyone would want to poison themselves with this shit…"

Hal and Ollie cringed, stepping into the apartment and collapsing on the couches. They had spent the night searching for Roy, soon discovering him in an old basement shaft with a group of druggies.

"Good job going undercover." Ollie said, patting the teen on the shoulder. "For a moment there I thought that you had been kidnapped."

Roy had managed a small smile as he sat himself on a desk chair, but the expression didn't last very long. The thugs wouldn't have gained up on the two heroes if he hadn't up and left like that, leaving his belongings behind. If Ollie had been smart he would have noticed the money being withdrawn from his bank account; at least then he would have known that he was alright.

"Those boys are sick as hell." Hal sighed, shaking his head in exhaustion. "They ruin their lives with that crap, and for what, an adrenaline rush?"

"It's more than that," Roy chimed in. His hands were having trouble staying still, and he seemed to be having some trouble breathing. "I mean sure, that's what keeps them coming back, but all they really want is something to make up for what they don't have. A lot of them are neglected, ignored; they have no one to turn to, so they try and make up for that loss with junk."

Ollie snorted out a laugh, rolling his eyes at the young red-head.

"I'll be sure to play them a song on the world's smallest violin." He said, getting up off of the couch and walking Hal to the front door. "You're welcome to spend the night." He said, patting his friend on the back.

"Thanks for the offer, but I really should be going. I have my own city to look after."

Ollie nodded, waving a goodbye to his friend and closing the door behind him.

"Roy," He called out, walking into the living room to find his young charge gone. He walked through the hallway, noticing the light on in the red-heads bedroom. "Roy, I'm making dinner, can I interest you in anything?"

He opened the door, not realizing right away what he had just walked in on.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Roy's head shot up, all innocence draining out of his face as he looked up at Ollie, about to plunge a syringe into his vein. "What the fuck are you doing? Are you on drugs?"

He ran to the teen's side, violently grabbing him by the wrist that held the syringe.

"Let go of me!" Roy screamed, trying to squirm out of the tight grip and accidently throwing the syringe across the room. "You don't understand! I need it, let me go! I need it!"

Ollie pulled him off of the bed he sat on, slapping him across the face and knocking him to the ground.

"Get out!" He yelled, his voice booming through the house. "Get out!"

Roy quickly pulled himself to his feet, running out of the complex as fast as his legs were able to carry him. His legs and arms felt heavy, and he felt like his lungs weren't taking in enough air.

Ollie stood in Roy's room, kicking the bedpost after he heard the front door shut.

"Shit…" He mumbled, sitting on the bed and laying his forehead in his hands. How long had this been happening? Were there signs?

He picked the abandoned syringe off of the ground, eyeing the half-used liquid inside.

Heroin…

He knew what this shit did to people. He had raised Roy better than that. "Shit!" He yelled again, setting the drug down hard on the nightstand. He shouldn't have to deal with this. Bad mentors had to deal with this, but he had given that boy everything that he could ever want. He never had a problem giving him money when he needed it; he even had his own credit card.

Was that part of the problem? Should he have set more boundaries? The kid was sixteen, old enough to make his own decisions. He didn't need to be babysat anymore.

* * *

><p>Roy had stopped running after finding an abandoned alleyway. He leaned against the wall, his hands and knees shaking vigorously. What he had done had hardly qualified as a hit. The junk had to have been mixed with something.<p>

He checked his pockets, suddenly realizing that he hadn't grabbed anything before leaving. Eighty dollars, was that really all he had with him? He slid down the brick wall, leaning his head against a dumpster. He was exhausted, and his head was killing him. If he didn't get a hit soon the pain was just going to get worse.

He pulled himself off of the ground, holding the wall of the building while he walked. The abandoned warehouse where Ollie and Hal had found him wasn't far, and if his usual dealer wasn't there, he might be able to get something from one of his friends. His gut was on fire… and not from Ollie's cooking for once.

"Fuck." He mumbled, dragging himself down a flight of stairs. All he could do was hope that no one had changed the knock that they used to get in. Thankfully, they opened the door the first time. A young Asian boy, no older than fifteen, let him in the building.

"I thought the police got you for a second." The boy said with a smirk, his body twitching.

"I just got kicked out… I need somewhere to stay, and I need a hit real bad…"

The boy nodded.

"Dealer isn't here right now." He said, scratching at his limp arms. "I need some more of the stuff myself. I was going to make a street run if you're up for it. How much cash you got?"

"Eighty."

He snorted, "I don't know how long you expect to live on these streets, but eighty dollars isn't going to get you very far."

Roy knew that there was a lot of truth in his friend's words. Eighty dollars wasn't going to get him more than two hits at the most; it didn't help that he was showing withdrawal symptoms. If dealers saw that you were desperate for a hit, they'd raise the price. They knew how badly you needed it… And he knew how junkies got the money they needed… Stealing, mugging, some even sold their bodies.

"Just help me get a hit…" He said.

The young Asian put a hand on his shoulder, walking with him back onto the late night streets. They both knew the kind of people they were looking for. The ones who sold the drugs were the bigger guys, always traveling in packs. You approached them, but you said nothing, just showed them the money. All of the different drugs were priced differently, so most of them knew what you were looking for based on how much you gave them. In Roy's case, there were also visual ways for them to know.

Ollie hadn't once noticed the track marks covering his arms. He hadn't even been hiding them. For him, seeing if Ollie would ever find out was part of the rush. He would leave his door unlocked or open a crack, and he wouldn't worry too much about wearing long sleeves.

That was why he had run off in the first place… to see if Ollie had even cared enough to come looking for him. Hearing nothing from his mentor during his first week on the streets hadn't shocked him, he wasn't stupid, and he knew that he wasn't Ollie's first priority. Hell, any man is going to take the possibility of bedding their girlfriend over going home to take care of a teenager.

It was week two that made him start wondering if anyone even realized he was gone…

Then by week three his addiction had made a turn for the worst… He was up to three or four hits a day just so that he could feel normal. He knew that drugs were addicting, and that it would get worse the longer he stayed on, but he needed something to rely on. Heroin was the closest thing to love and friendship that he had ever felt…

_They say the shit'll kill me… They just don't say when…_

* * *

><p>Hal sat in his living room, thinking about everything that had happened today. His head was killing him, and he still felt sick to his stomach from the heroin that those punks had forced into their bodies. If Roy hadn't been there to snap the two heroes out of it, they'd be sitting in a police station right now. Maybe even in jail.<p>

Still, he couldn't help but wonder what Roy had been doing with those young thugs. The boy hadn't confirmed or denied being undercover, and he didn't look good… He had no color in his face, and he had definitely lost weight.

Hal thought back to what Ollie had said about the then-missing Roy.

_"I haven't seen him in a month. Capture is a possibility."_

Roy was only sixteen years old… you'd think that Ollie would be more concerned about the boy being missing for a month. True, he admitted to not paying him much attention, but was there really a possibility of neglect?

He shook his head, sighing. Ollie was one of his best friends; he had taken that boy in after his mentor passed away, any problems that Roy could be having could have something to do with the families that he's been passed around to. Maybe he didn't feel at home here, like he didn't have a permanent family.

"_All they really want is something to make up for what they don't have. A lot of them are neglected, ignored; they have no one to turn to, so they try and make up for that loss with junk." _Roy had said. Could he be feeling so alone that he would need drugs to make up for it? Was there really a possibility of that young boy being on the streets doing heroin?

Hal got off of the couch. There would be no way for him to relax until he figured this out…

He dialed Ollie's number, hanging the phone up without bothering to listen to the answering machine. Ollie was the type of guy who would wait until after he had dinner before he tried going back for those thugs and therefore, he should still be home. If he wasn't answering his phone, something must be going on that was pretty important. He had to go back over there… He just had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was horribly wrong…

* * *

><p>"Ollie," He called out, knocking on the door before opening it a crack. "I don't mean to barge in here, but I just had an uneasy feeling. Is something wrong?"<p>

Oliver sat on the couch, staring at the turned off television. The complex held an uneasy feeling, causing Hal to walk on eggshells to his friend's side, setting a hand on his shoulder. "He wasn't undercover was he…?" The brunette stated, shaking his head at his own realization. "Is he in his room?"

"I kicked him out." Ollie said, still looking straight ahead at the blank television set.

Hal pulled back.

"You kicked him out? Why the hell would you do that?"

"What else should I have done? It's his life, his funeral. I won't take part of it, and therefore, it's not my problem. If that's what he wants to do, I'm not going to burden myself with it."

"Not your problem…" Hal mocked, "Not your problem… That little orphan boy wasn't your problem, but you took him in anyway. What'd you foster him for? Was he just another charity that you can get attention for? Is that what you think of him as, a trophy?"

"He was a child then." Ollie shot back, "He wasn't old enough to take care of himself; he's not a little kid anymore."

Hal let out an irritated snort, turning himself around and putting a hand on the front doorknob. Maybe Ollie didn't care, but if there was anything that kid needed in his life right now, it was support. He was sick, and he needed help.

"Just tell me Ollie…" He said. "What part of this do you not want to deal with? The part where you need to be a parent, or the part where they call you into the police station to identify his body… because I can tell you this, if nothing's done, Roy will die."

"He did this to himself, I can't be held responsible for that."

"You've been neglecting him."

"He can take care of himself. What was I supposed to be doing? Taking him to the park to play baseball? He shouldn't need that kind of attention at his age."

"Fine," Hal said, opening the door. "Just answer me this, how old was Roy when you took him in?"

Ollie shrugged his shoulders, "Ten, eleven… I don't completely remember."

"I want you to think about that eleven year old shooting up with that shit… Picture him out on the street with those druggies; picture him in that body bag. The fact that he grew up didn't make him a different person, Ollie. He's still that little kid."

With that, he left, closing the door behind him and not looking back. If Ollie really didn't care, fine. But he was not going to find himself at that kid's funeral… If Hal had any say in the matter, Roy was not going to die. Not at sixteen…

* * *

><p>Roy sat curled in a ball in the basement of the abandoned warehouse, a shoelace tied around his arm as a tourniquet. He wasn't a big fan of shooting up, but smoking or inhaling weren't fast enough for him anymore. He didn't have the patience to wait fifteen minutes for the high to start.<p>

"So, Roy," His young friend said, lying on the concrete with his head rested on a backpack. "You never told us your story."

An older African American boy had joined in their group also, probably around seventeen or eighteen.

"You have to have a reason for shooting up." He said.

Roy sighed slightly, taking the shoelace off his arm.

"I told you guys that it was personal." He said. "If you must know, I have family problems."

"Don't us all." The African American said with a laugh, a roll of marijuana sitting in between his lips. "We wouldn't be living on the streets if we had families."

"I'm an orphan." Roy said. "My father died when I was just a little kid… We had been taken in by an Indian reservation, as part of the Navajo tribe; a forest fire wiped out part of my village, my dad included. The chief still cared for me like I was one of his own, but after he got sick; everyone agreed that it would be best for me to find a permanent home."

"So how'd you end up in these parts?"

He was surprised that they were actually listening to him… These guys were more than just a couple of street thugs; they were his only real friends right now.

"It's a complicated story…" He couldn't finish his tale without revealing his other identity. "Let's just say that I wasn't taken in by the best man in the world… don't get me wrong, he's alright, but I always felt more like a roommate to him than a son."

In the back of his mind, he knew that some of the things that Ollie said were right. He was old enough to take care of himself, but that didn't mean that he no longer needed a father figure in his life.

Ollie would ditch him for days at a time, sometimes even weeks. Not to mention the fact that he had never once taken him to see his old home. He had friends there; his tribe had raised him like part of their family.

Roy sighed, taking a swig from the bottle of alcohol that the boys had been passing around. He was almost completely out of money, and he didn't know how long the stuff the he had gotten was going to last. At this point his only options were mugging or stealing. Prostitution was a last resort.

"What do you guys do for cash around these parts?" He asked, scratching at his arms.

His friends shrugged, passing the bottle back and forth.

"Sell shit, mug the occasional dude."

"Don't you feel bad about it?"

He felt like a little kid being told to cheat on a test…

"No shit, dude… when you're on edge from the junk wearing off, you do what you have to do."

Roy let out a sigh, resting his head on his knees. The feeling on his lengthened hair brushing against his legs made him cringe. His jeans were developing larger holes by the minute and he hadn't showered in days. His own stench made him want to vomit.

"I wish I was dead…" He mumbled, covering his head with his arms.

"Try and quit cold turkey and you probably will be."

They were right… There were many ways to die when you were living on these streets, but most of them sounded like they hurt worse than the pain he was enduring now. He felt cold, feverish… For once, a bowl of Ollie's scorching hot chili sounded like the most delicious thing in the world.

* * *

><p>Hal searched the city, finding that he wasn't able to remember where Ollie and he had found Roy the first time. There was more than one abandoned warehouse in this heap, and way more than one thug selling out drugs to young kids… His best option was to search out of costume… For now, he was just Hal, a man who was able to get into these drug circles without being discovered.<p>

He just hoped that he wasn't too late…

"Roy," The brunette called out while walking through the alley way. He had gotten a lack of response, but a large amount of dirty looks. He didn't look like a druggie; he looked like a concerned parent searching for a runaway. Which in a way, he was.

"Roy," He called the boys name again, walking down a flight of stairs.

Roy lifted his head up to the sudden noise, his vision blurred to how much time he had spent in the dark basement. Was he starting to hear things?

"Did someone just call my name?" He asked. His voice cracked slightly while he spoke.

His two friends pulled him up to his feet, dragging him to the back of the old building.

"If they find you, they're going to throw you in rehab. I haven't heard anything good about those hell holes. They make you quit cold turkey; you'll shit out your insides."

Roy followed the other boys, finding himself in a shadowy corner behind a dumpster, his heart beating out of his chest. He pulled the corked bottle of liquefied heroin out of his pants pocket, popping it open and filling a syringe that had been lying on the ground; diseases, infection, none of that mattered right now. His mind was racing and he felt sick to his stomach.

"Dude," The Asian boy said, clutching the red-heads shoulder. "You need to relax, you just did a hit, and you should be saving that stuff."

Roy pulled away, shoving the dull needle into his arm, wincing in pain.

"Fuck!" He yelled, biting his tongue as he took in the drug. Hitting a muscle hurt like a bitch, and the dullness of the needle just made matters worse. He didn't want to go to rehab; all that would do was prove Ollie right, prove that he was a failure; then all he would hear about was Ollie being right… He could already hear the disgusting voice in his head, telling him repeatedly that he had told him so, that he had ruined his life and then needed help setting everything straight…

No… Roy was better than that, he didn't need help from that bastard, and he would slit his wrists before that happened.

"I need some more of the drug…" He stuttered, his teeth chattering from what was probably a mixture of the drug and the cold. "I'm out of money…"

His friends gave him a shrug, leaning next to him against the wall.

"You know your options." They said.

* * *

><p>As the night became the early morning, Hal found himself back home. He knew that the boy was in a weaker mindset because of the drug, but that didn't seem to be changing the fact that he wouldn't find him if he didn't want to be found…<p>

Exhausted, he grabbed the phone off the wall, collapsing onto the couch.

"Dinah…" He said quietly, letting out a worried sigh. "We need to talk about Roy…"

**A/N: Well, there's day one. I could've continued this forever, but I knew that I had to stop somewhere… I'm sorry if this is confusing to anyone who didn't read the original story, so if you have any questions I'll be sure to answer them.**


	2. Day Two

**Title: What doesn't kill me**

**Author: Alla B.**

**Rating: M for language and adult themes**

**Summary: Roy and Ollie's relationship first went sour two years ago, all because the man who was supposed to be a father figure decided his wards fate was no longer his problem.**

**My rendition of Snowbirds Don't Fly**

**Part 2 of 7**

Dinah had come over as soon as she got the phone call. This had to be pretty important for Hal to be calling her at four thirty in the morning.

"What's the problem?" She asked, walking into the brunette's living room.

He offered her a seat on the couch, the worry in his face showing strongly.

"Roy ran away…" He said, pausing for a moment, "Actually… Ollie kicked him out. I searched the streets all night but I couldn't find him. He's sick Dinah; really sick…if he doesn't get help soon, I'm not sure how long he's going to survive out there."

"Well what the hell happened?" Dinah asked, "Why would Ollie kick him out?"

Hal sat down next to her. Dinah and Roy didn't know each other very well yet, which meant that in her eyes, he was still an innocent young boy.

"He's on drugs." He said, "Badly. I think that he may have a serious addiction to heroin."

Dinah was silent at first, sighing deeply and shaking her head. What kind of person kicks a drugged up teenager onto the streets?

"How long has he been gone?" She asked, thinking back to when she would see Roy with Ollie when he was still in junior high school. "Do you have any leads on his whereabouts?"

"Sort of, Ollie and I had gone out looking for him yesterday evening; I guess that he had been missing for a few weeks at that point. When we found him in an abandoned warehouse with a couple of junkies we assumed that he had been undercover, maybe trying to get a drug bust. Since Ollie didn't worry, I didn't feel like I had to, but… god Dinah the kid looked awful… he was so frail, like he had lost thirty pounds, and he's a skinny kid to begin with."

"It never crossed either of your minds that he could be with the druggies?"

"I thought about it for a moment, but Ollie was just so calm about everything, I'm not even sure if he noticed how sick Roy looked. We managed to get him home with no problem, it wasn't until after I left that he tried shooting up again, getting caught in the act… I'm sure that he's back at the warehouse, if only I could remember where the damn place was."

Dinah sighed, shaking her head and looking at the ground.

"Damn it, Oliver…" She said to herself, getting off of the couch and looking out the window. She took her keys off of Hal's coffee table, signaling him to follow her. "We have to find him."

"No shit…"

"I'm not in the mood for your sarcasm right now, Hal… just get in the car and we'll see what we can figure out." She opened the front door, signaling for Hal to follow her.

"And how do you suppose we're going to do this?" He asked, "Are we heroes in this situation, or are we just citizens?"

"For the moment, we're ordinary citizens." Dinah said. "We aren't looking for trouble, or for anyone's arrest, we can deal with that issue later. All that we have to worry about right now is getting Roy somewhere safe."

Roy pierced his vein with the full syringe, a speck of blood finding its way into the needle. The rush of the drug hit him within seconds, bringing down his blood pressure and sweeping a calm feeling throughout his body.

_That's almost the last of it…_ He thought to himself. It still didn't feel like enough; the drug helped ease the pain for a few minutes, but it just wasn't strong enough.

He looked up at his young Asian friend, taking a hit on a role of marijuana.

"What do you guys usually do for money?" He asked, "Other than steal, you know? Stealing just isn't for me." Being a thief would only make him feel worse about the world that he had become caught up in. He was supposed to be a hero, and heroes weren't thieves.

"Some people sell the shit they already have." One of the boys said, taking the role from within the small circle. "You don't have much with you, Roy, do you?"

"Not really… I got thrown out pretty suddenly, you know? I didn't have a lot of time to pack."

The boys gave an understanding nod, the young Asian patting him on the shoulder.

"I know you're new on the streets," He said, "But if you have no plans to be a thief, you're going to be in for a lot of disappointment. None of us guys want to do this shit; we just don't have much of a choice anymore. I don't steal because I like it, and these kids around here aren't fucking middle aged men because they want to."

He laughed slightly, shaking his head. "Man, what the hell did we do to get ourselves into this shit?" He said with a chuckle. "I know your life's hard, but what made you turn to this junk?"

Roy had begun picking at the skin around his nails, bloody sores starting to swell up from what was probably an infection.

The older African American boy sighed, individually cracking his knuckles one by one.

"It takes a lot of strength to ignore the shit they say about you…" He said, scratching vigorously at his arms and legs. "Man, I've heard it all, they try and claim that they don't say it to be racist, but you can tell by the look they get in their eyes. You know why they say the shit they do…"

Roy nodded, licking the blood off of his knuckles, the flavor of rusted metal meeting his colorless lips.

"Did either of you start this shit, you know… just to see if anyone cared… see if they even noticed?"

"Nah," The Asian said with a flick of the wrist, "I don't care much with the drama with parents. I guess I can see where you're coming from, being adopted and all, but as the years go by you learn not to care what the folks think. Take it from us, Roy; if that Pa of yours doesn't care now, nothing is going to change his mind."

"He's not my father!" Roy shot out, pulling another chunk of flesh out with his teeth. "I don't want you ever to refer to him as that."

He got up off of the concrete, his voice breaking slightly under the weight he felt pushing down on his chest. "Fuck…" He mumbled, massaging his temples. "Why do I have to be such a jackass? Maybe Ollie's right about me, maybe I don't deserve a family."

He filled a syringe up with liquefied heroin, plunging it into his vein. That was the last of it, and he had no more money. "I need more junk." He stated with anger, sighing in relief as the drug listed the weight off of his chest. His friends nodded, getting onto their feet and leading him out the door of the warehouse. "What do you guys plan on doing?" He asked, already knowing in the pit of his stomach what the answer was.

The boys didn't answer, just continued walking up the steps of the warehouse and out onto the street. The Asian boy pulled a pocket knife out of his pants, flicking it open with a click.

"The bastards have it coming," He said, "rich fucks shouldn't be hanging on this turf anyway."

Roy sighed, hardly managing a nod as he stayed at his friend's sides, scratching at his veins as he watched them hid out behind a dumpster, pulling him by the arm to their side.

"Stay quiet and keep calm." They said, peeking out the corner into the practically empty street. "There's a sorry bastard coming this way, he looks like he could have some cash on him, maybe a gold watch or something." He motioned for the other boys to come closer, signaling them to back him up before making a leap out from behind the trash can. "We don't want any trouble," he said, pocket knife in hand. Roy and the other boy followed his lead. "Just give us what you have on you and we'll be on our way."

The man gave a sly grin… He was large and muscular, dressed in nice attire.

"Calm down, punks…" He said, "I'm not looking for trouble, and I think I can make a deal with you all." He reached a hand out, touching Roy on the cheek. "Aren't you a pretty little boy?" He said, his smile widening as Roy pulled away, slapping him on the hand.

"Get the fuck away from me." He gasped.

"You boys need money, don't you, well, next time you try mugging someone, how about finding someone who isn't twice your size?"

The Asian boy put his mouth to Roy's ear, pulling him down to his height.

"Come on, dude…" He whispered. "Just take one for the team; he'll give us what we need."

Roy pulled away.

"Are you kidding me?" He yelled, "I'm not doing that!"

His heart was beating out of his chest and he was having trouble catching his breath; for once he couldn't tell if it was from the drug withdrawal or from the situation happening in front of him.

"I'm telling you, man…" The African American boy said, "You can do this now, or you can wait until the junk starts wearing off, because I guarantee that when the shit starts leaving your system and you have nothing to replace it with, you'll do anything for that hit."

The man once again touched his hand to Roy's cheek, gently stroking his chin.

"I've always had a soft spot for redheads…" He said, making Roy cringe in disgust. He fought back the tears that were building up, squeezing his eyes shut.

"How much will you give me for this?" He asked; his voice cracking. His friends put their hands on his shoulders, giving him apologetic smiles and gentle nods.

The caress of the man's hand moved to Roy's cheek, touching his thumb to his colorless lips.

"How's a hundred for you?"

The man stroked Roy's hair, his thin lips forming a grin of pure evil. The young teenager had wrapped himself up in an old, musky blanket; curled into a fetal position on an old tattered mattress. It wasn't until the dirty man left that he allowed himself to break down, burying his face in the filthy excuse for a bed.

When his two friends came in minutes later, they said not a word to him; just setting the bag of white powder next to his face. Without a second thought, the redhead grabbed the bag, looking around for a spoon that he could use to liquefy the shit that was fucking him up badly enough where he was allowing himself to be raped over it. He had left everything that he needed at Ollie's house… His lighter, his syringe… Even his bow was still there… How the fuck could he forgot that?

He was forced out of bed by the crippling addiction, dressing himself and attempting to balance on his rubbery legs. He was exhausted with fever and withdrawal, grabbing onto the concrete walls in an attempt to stay on his feet.

"Hey," The two boys said, the young Asian putting a hand on his shoulder. "You look pretty beat…"

Roy nodded, signaling that he wanted a spoon and a lighter. The boys agreed with no hesitation, helping him to liquefy the heroin. He filled a used syringe, finding it difficult to hold his hand steady as he attempted to find a vein that wasn't collapsed.

So much of him was just tempted to take it all at once… What was the point of living when this is what his life had turned into? He dug around his arm with the needle, biting his lip in pain and twitching slightly when he finally managed to find one of his veins.

"Roy, I think you might have an infection." The Asian boy said taking hold of the back of Roy's arm. His skin was discolored in some areas, oozing yellow and green fluid when he pricked it.

"I'm fine." The redhead said, pulling away from his friend. He was starting to get used to the pain of living on the streets; if anything, it was the one thing that made him feel normal again.

He was a freak…

A fucked up freak… And he was probably going to die…

* * *

><p>It had taken Dinah and Hal a few hours to gain a lead on Roy's location. Drug addicted teenagers running away from home wasn't exactly abnormal in this part of town.<p>

"I hope we aren't too late…" Dinah said, following Hal down the old flight of concrete stairs. Someone on the streets who knew Roy had seen him come down here with an older man; his arm wrapped around the teenagers shoulder. Dinah didn't like being a pessimist, especially during such a serious situation, but she couldn't help but doubt that they were ever going to find Roy alive…

"The doors locked." Hal said. Dinah rolled her eyes, letting out a stressed sounding groan.

"Get out of my way." She grunted, kicking the door as hard as she could. As she expected, it fell off of its hinges. "If that boy is dead…" She cringed in anger, "I will make Ollie pay."

They walked into the warehouse, kids as young as twelve years old were kneeling in puddles of vomit, stabbing themselves with rusted syringes. An old futon lay in a corner, covered in dust and stained with god knows what kind of bodily fluids… laying on the bed unconscious lay a young boy, face smeared with dirt and blood; greasy red hair grown down just past his eyebrows. The two heroes couldn't tell if he was breathing.

"Roy!" Hal called, rushing to his aid with Dinah right behind him. His breathing was slow and deep, but he was alive.

"He's burning up." Dinah said, putting a hand on his forehead. "We have to get him out of here." She pulled him onto his feet with Hal's help, eyeing the infected flesh covering his arm.

"Do you mind him staying with you at your house? I'll stop by and make sure that he's doing alright."

"Yes, of course…"

* * *

><p>Roy awoke with no idea of where he was; his head throbbing and his gut on fire. His vision had started out blurry when he opened his eyes, slamming them shut again as the living room light hit him.<p>

Half-blind, he grabbed a plastic bucked that sat at the end of the couch, attempting to vomit but only dry heaving.

"You're awake…" Dinah said as she came into the living room, once again putting her palm to his forehead. She stuck a thermometer in between his colorless lips, pressing a cool towel against his forehead.

Roy wanted to ask her what had happened, but he seemed unable to get any words out of his mouth. The last thing he remembered was being in bed with that dirty old man…

"You have a fever of 105 degrees… You can sleep here tonight, but I'm bringing you to the hospital in the morning."

The redhead couldn't argue right now… Hell, he could barely even keep his eyes open.

"I know you're tired, but I need you to stay awake right now.

Dinah wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, continuing to dab his forehead with the damp rag. His fever seemed to be getting higher faster than it was getting lower, and the infection in his arm was swollen with pus, looking like a large green bruise. His face was twitching and his teeth chattered, signs of withdrawal showing strongly on him.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Dinah asked, handing him a mug of hot tea. He looked like he hadn't had anything to eat or drink in days. "Why would you do this to yourself?"

Roy brought his feet up on the couch, wrapping his arms around his legs.

"I don't know…" He said, turning his head away from her. "Curiosity I guess…" Dinah put her hand on his shoulder.

"There has to be more to it than that." She said, "Roy, you have an incredibly serious problem. You're very sick, and I'm not sure you understand how lucky you are to be alive after this. You could have overdosed; you could be dead right now…"

"Stop trying to make it sound like anyone would care… Ollie would never even notice…"

"Is that what this is about?" Dinah asked, "Ollie loves you, he was just in shock; you know that."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" He sat the tea down hard; trying to hold back tears. "That man couldn't care less about me! I take care of _myself_ over there! I do _everything_ by myself over there! Hell, for weeks at a time he's not even fucking _home_! I have nobody in my life to turn to. When I ran away, all I wanted was to see if he would even notice, and he didn't! I was out on the street for a month wondering if anyone would ever care enough to notice!" He tried to calm himself down, covering his face and releasing the tears he had been holding back. "No one cares about me…" He sobbed, "I started shooting up because I needed something to make the fucking pain go away!"

Dinah wrapped her arms around Roy's shoulders, pulling him into her. Her eyes held sympathy as she allowed the young teenager to cry on her shoulder. She held him tightly; mother-like. His body was burning up from his fever. She had never seen him so weak and fragile, curled up in her arms like a frightened little boy. Roy truly felt that he had no one to turn to… that no one loved him…

"Roy," She said gently, using the damp towel to wipe his face. His eyes were red and swollen, and he looked embarrassed about crying in front of her. "How about you get in the shower and I'll make you something to eat? I'll call Ollie and have him bring you some clean clothes.

Roy nodded, looking down at the ground and getting up.

"I don't want to see him…"

"You two really should talk…"

The redhead said nothing, struggling to keep himself on his feet while he walked. His limbs hurt, his stomach was on fire and he felt like he was going to throw up… This was just about the last conversation that he wanted to have right now…

Dinah picked the phone up off the hook after she heard the water turn on, not even giving Ollie a chance to speak when he picked the phone up.

"Oh my god Ollie, what the hell is wrong with you, you selfish, dense bastard!" She yelled in a whisper. "What the hell could have possibly been going through your head that would cause you to just abandon Roy like that?"

She heard Ollie sigh over the other end of the phone.

"He brought this on himself, Dinah. I can't be chasing him around all the time; he's old enough to fend for himself and if this is the life that he's choosing to live—"

"He's _sixteen_, he might not need a babysitter but he does need a father."

"I'm not his father."

"You became his father when you signed his adoption papers! He's not a fucking _dog_; you can't just bring him home and expect him to care for himself! You were supposed to be taking care of him… showing that you loved him… he got absolutely no affection from you; he ran away because it was the only thing he could think of that might get you to notice him, and you didn't. How the hell could you have not even noticed he was gone!"

"Of course I noticed! What was I supposed to do about it? You should know as well as anyone that things like this happen when you're in the hero business. Sometimes you have to go undercover and be gone for a few days."

Dinah grunted in rage, her face turning red. "How can you compare being undercover to a sixteen year old being missing for a month? You never even bothered to ever look for him; what if something even worse had happened to him? For god sake, what if he had been _dead_?"

"Dinah, I can't be held accountable for that boys actions'."

She slammed the phone down, sitting at the counter and resting her forehead in her hands. How could somebody possibly be so uncaring? She shook her head and sighed, getting up and putting a pot on the stove. After opening a can of soup she went into her bedroom, grabbing some of Ollie's spare clothing and bringing it into the guestroom. How could Ollie just abandon him like that?

Maybe Roy had been right…

Maybe he just didn't care…


	3. Day Three

Roy shot up in the guest bed, unable to stop himself from screaming. He grabbed the bucket that sat next to him and vomited. He had been unsuccessful in keeping any of Dinah's soup down, and his stomach was now managing to kill him and be growling at the same time.

He got out of the guest bed, taking the bucket into the bathroom to rinse it out. He was having trouble remembering everything that had happened within the past two days… He was drenched in sweat from his fever and had now awoken from his second night terror. Every muscle in his body ached; the pain in his head was pounding… He felt like he was dying, and at this point he wished that he was.

Dinah flipped the hall light on, walking into the bathroom and putting her hand on his forehead.

"How are you feeling?" She asked quietly, feeling him shiver under her hand. He had no color in his face or lips, looking frail… fragile…

"Please go away…" He managed to get out, hyperventilating over the sink. He didn't like being seen this way. He thought of himself as weak, worthless. He turned the sink water on, dipping his head under the cool stream that came down.

"I don't like you being alone when you're like this…" Dinah said, taking a wet rag out of the sink and putting it on the back of Roy's neck. "I don't want you by yourself if you faint… You could give yourself a concussion." She went into the closet to grab a towel, turning the sink water off and wrapping it around his head, ruffling his red hair.

"I'm fine." Roy said; his voice cracking. "I just had to throw up…"

"I want to take your temperature again."

The blonde went into the bathroom cabinet, taking the thermometer out and rinsing it off in the sink.

"I said I'm fine… I don't need my temperature taken. Why do you insist on treating me like a little kid?" Roy said, slapping Dinah's hand away. "I can take care of myself… I don't need anyone."

She glared at him, grabbing him by the chin.

"You listen to me…" She said, "You open your damn mouth and let me take your temperature, or I take it the _other_ way."

Roy pulled away, grunting and taking the thermometer out of her hands; angrily sticking it in his mouth.

"That's what I thought." Dinah smirked, putting a hand on his forehead and taking it out of his mouth. "You still have a pretty high fever… How's your arm doing?"

"It's fine…" He said, wrapping his hand around the bandaged infection. It wasn't fine… the pain was becoming unbearable, and the pus contained a horrible odor.

"Can I look at it?"

She took his arm before he could tell her no, unwrapping the bandage gently. She paused when he groaned in pain, curling his fingers into a fist. "This is really bad, Roy…" She sighed, watching the yellow emission bubble up onto the green colored infection. "I'm not sure that I want to wait until morning to bring you to the hospital."

She massaged a disinfectant into the contaminated tissue, wrapping a new bandage around his arm.

"I don't need a hospital… I told you, I'm fine. I've been fine for months…"

"I'll call child services, you know…" She threatened, meeting his eyes with an angry glair. "You have two options right now. You listen to me, and therefore you stay with me. You don't listen to me; you'll be put into foster care. Is that what you want?"

Roy sighed, sitting on the cold tile and leaning his head against the sink cupboard. This was all too much for him right now… All that he really wanted was to go to bed…

"Going to the hospital means that I need help…" He said, pulling his legs up to his chest. "I don't need help… He can never think that I need help."

"You _do_ need help, Roy." Dinah sighed, putting her hand on his shoulder. "That's nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, you know as well as I do that Ollie was just in the hospital a few days ago."

"All I know is that managed to be my fault too. Just like everything else."

Ollie had made him feel so weak over the years… In that house, you kept everything to yourself because that was what real men were supposed to do. You didn't seek the comfort of others. "Now please… just leave me alone. That's all I want right now."

The blonde sighed and nodded, helping Roy onto his feet before leaving him alone in the bathroom. He shut the door, used the bathroom, washed his hands, and stood there. He stared at himself in the mirror. He was so disgusted by himself… in so much pain from trying to kick such a soothing habit. His head, his stomach, his muscles, his emotions… He needed the pain to stop.

_Ollie's right…_ He thought to himself._ I'm weak… I can't handle this shit…_

The tears were building up in his eyes as he opened the medicine cabinet, digging around for anything that could make the pain go away.

His eyes caught a glimpse of an orange prescription bottle, hidden in the back behind a thing of Tylenol and liquid cough syrup.

_Sleeping Pills…_

He opened the bottle, pouring several of the pills into his hand and moving them around with his fingers. He had expected to feel afraid… for his heart to pound out of his chest or to have some sort of rush of adrenaline, the same way he did when he shot up on the streets.

Instead he felt numb… prepared. He took the bottle of cough syrup out of the cabinet, throwing the handful of pills in his mouth and taking a swig of the liquid medicine.

It tasted terrible… He didn't care.

He poured out several more pills, repeating the process over again. He then dumped the remainder of the bottle in his mouth; taking a final swig of the cough syrup. He probably should have written a letter, but it was too late for that now.

It was too late for everything now…

* * *

><p>Dinah sat in the kitchen, rubbing a finger along the edge of her wine glass. She was worried… Roy appeared to be getting worse before he got better. His arm was badly infected, which was probably what was affecting his fever.<p>

She sighed when she heard a knock on the front door, getting onto her feet and answering it. She wasn't surprised to find Hal at her doorstep, inviting himself into the house before she was able to respond.

"How's he doing?" The brunette asked, resting his elbows on the kitchen counter.

"Not good… He's been having night terrors and muscle spasms. He seems to be in a lot of pain…"

Hal shook his head, taking a seat at the counter and sighing slightly.

"Did you talk to Ollie?"

"I tried, but he doesn't seem to want anything to do with the boy right now."

Dinah cursed under the breath, resting her forehead in her palm and brushing her bangs back. "He's such a selfish, cold-hearted bastard sometimes… Doesn't he understand that throwing him out on the street isn't going to solve anything—?"

The two adults jumped to the sound of weight hitting the floor, causing them to shoot out of their chairs and run into the living room. The bathroom door was closed, and the light remained on.

"Roy?" Dinah yelled, "Is everything okay in there?" She pounded on the door, turning the knob only to realize it was locked. "Can you hear me?" She called, pounding harder, eventually kicking the door in.

She wasn't expecting what she had walked in on… The barely conscious teenager lay on the floor of the bathroom, the medicine cabinet was opened and a bottle of empty prescription pills lay in the sink.

"Shit!" Dinah yelled, rushing to his side. She lifted his head up, pulling him over to the toilet and trying to persuade him to vomit. "Hal, you need to fly us to the hospital, _now_!"

* * *

><p>Roy wasn't sure how long he had been passed out for… and when he woke up, he wished that he didn't remember why… The concern on Dinah's face was there to remind him, her hand touching his.<p>

"Hey," She said quietly, brushing his orange bangs behind his ear. "How are you feeling?"

His stomach hurt so bad… like he had vomited a hot pepper. He knew that he probably had it pumped, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk to Dinah about why… not that he felt that would stop Dinah from asking… He had tried to kill himself… He knew better than to think she wouldn't bring it up.

"I told Hal to call Ollie." Dinah said, shame suddenly filling Roy's face.

"You can't tell him…" He said. "He'll never let me live it down; it'll just be another excuse for him to tell me everything that's wrong with me. I already know that I'm a failure; I don't need to be reminded by him."

"He's your legal guardian; you can't leave the hospital without him."

Roy turned himself away from Dinah, staring in shame at the white hospital wall.

"Why would you do that?" That blonde asked, ignoring Roy's attempts to ignore her. "Roy… I'm not naïve; I know that this wasn't an accident… I need you to be honest with me. Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"I don't know…" Roy said quietly, inhaling deeply and wiping the tears from his bloodshot eyes. "Please just leave me alone. It hurts so damn bad, and you're not helping…"

"Roy… I need you to talk to me. What hurts?" His body was quivering, his limbs twitching. She had seen withdrawal symptoms before; seen what they did in adults two, sometimes three times his age. Now she was watching those same symptoms affect a sixteen year old… He was only a kid…

She placed a hand on his shoulder; he flinched at the sensation of being touched. "Roy…" She repeated. "What hurts?"

Both the blonde and the redhead jumped back slightly when the doctor opened the door, walking in with a chart in his hand.

"Are you his mother?" The doctor asked doubtfully, her young age obvious.

"I'm his legal guardian's fiancé. He should be here any minute."

The doctor nodded, signaling for Dinah to leave the room for a moment. She nodded, brushing her fingers through his hair before getting up. She closed the door behind her.

"Roy…" The doctor said his face stern and serious. "We did some tests on you…"

"You don't need to tell me that I'm on drugs… I'm not in denial of it, nor am I an idiot…"

"Those aren't the tests I'm talking about, Roy. I'm talking about blood tests. You had a serious infection in your arm. We managed to clean it out and bandage you up, but we're going to need you to come back for a check-up."

"If that's all, can I please go home?"

"You tested positive for syphilis and hepatitis B."

Roy's heart sank, his eyes closing in shame. "Syphilis is curable, and hepatitis B does have a good chance of being cured…"

Then the tears started… the redhead dug his head into his legs, covering himself with the uncomfortable hospital blanket.

"Did something happen when you were on the street?" The doctor asked, "Were you using dirty needles? Having unprotected sex?"

He nodded through his sobbing, hyperventilating loudly.

A knock came from the door…

"_Please_!" Roy cried, aware that Ollie stood at the other side of the closed door. "I don't want to talk to him! Don't make me talk to him!"

The doctor opened the door, glancing at Roy as he did so; concern in his eyes. Oliver walked into the room, the look on his face showing rage and a lecture that he was about to hear.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" The blond man yelled, barely stopping himself from backhanding the sobbing teenager. Dinah put a hand on Ollie's shoulder, halting him. Roy hadn't even noticed that she came back in the room.

"Just leave me alone!" Roy yelled, his hands still covering his beet-red face. He hated crying in front of people… he _never_ cried in front of people.

Dinah grabbed Ollie's hand violently, pulling him out of the room for a moment and closing the door behind her.

"How the hell did he turn out to be such a fuck-up…?" Ollie sighed, leaning his forehead against his hand. Dinah shoved him, pulling at her hair in pure rage.

"Do you even understand what's going on here!" She attempted to yell quietly. "This isn't just about the drugs anymore… that was a _suicide attempt_!"

"That was him having no more access to heroin and finding something else, Dinah!"

Dinah closed her eyes, shaking her head and sighing.

"Ollie… someone who just wants to get high doesn't swallow an entire bottle of sleeping pills…"

"You don't know that."

"And you don't know that he didn't try killing himself. You're supposed to care about him; to love him. Isn't that the promise you made when you adopted him?"

"I never promised him a damn thing."

"And that's what he learned to expect!" Dinah yelled, leaning against the wall and massaging her temples. "You did nothing for him… You were supposed to be a father figure, but you weren't even what I would call a guardian."

"I put a roof over the kids head, didn't I? I sent him to school, gave him a trust fund, and I never had a problem giving him money when he needed it; I can only assume he just took advantage of me. I've probably been the one buying all that shit off the street."

Dinah shook her head, curling her fingers into a fist in an attempt to control her temper. This wasn't the man she had fallen in love with…

"I'll never understand…" She sighed, "How you always manage to make the situation about you. Never in my life have I met someone so selfish…"

Ollie snorted out a laugh. "Funny that you can say that four feet away from the kid who's been stealing money from me just to satisfy his own needs… but I'm sure you'll find a way to make that my fault too."

"His problems are your responsibility no matter how you look at it. You can't leave him accountable for his actions, he's a _child_."

"He's old enough to know right from wrong."

"Not if no one teaches him."

"That's _all _I've taught him!"

In a fit of rage Ollie had almost given away his secret identity. He had trained that boy to be a hero; to fight alongside some of the greatest people the world had to offer. The difference between right and wrong should, logically, be all that Roy knew.

Dinah shook her head, closing her eyes and sighing.

"You taught him how to be a good hero…" She said as quietly as she could manage. "But when during that time frame did you teach him to be a good person? Something I don't think that you've mastered yourself…"

* * *

><p>Roy sat upright on the hospital bed, rocking back and forth while mumbling to himself. He wanted to be able to say that he wanted to go home, even though he didn't… Part of him wanted to be back on the street with his friends… back to how everything was yesterday. At this point he didn't care if he was happy; he just wanted something to make the pain go away…<p>

Dinah came back into the room, Ollie no longer accompanying her. She sat on the side of the hospital bed, looking down at him with genuine concern.

"Are you ready to talk about it yet?" She asked calmly, placing a hand on his. He pulled away, finding himself unable to look her in the eyes.

"There's nothing to talk about." He said.

"I disagree. In fact, I think that there's a lot to talk about. I know that you're uncomfortable discussing what happened, and I understand why, but you can't keep in bottled up forever. You need to talk about it."

"Where's Ollie?" Roy asked, ignoring her.

"He's paying the medical bill."

"Oh goodie, another thing that gets to be my fault."

"I'm trying to make him understand, Roy…" Dinah said with a sigh, "You're going to have to be patient with him, your stubbornness is one of the main things you two have in common."

"I have nothing in common with that man." The sentence came out blank… emotionless.

"Of course…" Dinah said with a small grin, brushing Roy's bangs out of his eyes. "Are you ready to tell me why you did it?"

It was silent for a moment, the only sounds coming from the hallway.

"I can't take it anymore…" Roy said with a sigh, his eyes looking forward into nothingness. "The pain is just too much…"

"I can understand that." Dinah responded, "That's just how withdrawal goes. There would be a lot less addiction if it felt good to quit."

"When I'm on the drug, I'm numb… I'm not happy, but I'm not unhappy either. I started using to make the pain stop; now it hurts all over again."

"Why were you hurting in the first place?"

Roy didn't respond, just laid himself back down on the bed. It wasn't that he didn't want to answer her, but how could he when he wasn't sure himself? Ollie was right, he was too old to be babysat, but that implied that there had been a time where things were actually good. Even as a child his mentor had failed to act as a parent. He may have paid for all of his living expenses, but he had never truly felt like he could look up to him… He had never truly felt loved…

Roy jumped at the sound of a knock on the door, the doctor that he had spoken to before walked back into the room, Ollie accompanying him.

"Roy," The doctor said, "You're free to leave soon. Right now I'd like you to sit in the waiting room while I talk to Dinah and Oliver."

"Whatever…" Roy said with a shrug, stumbling slightly as he attempted to crawl out of the uncomfortable bed. The doctor waited for the door to close before speaking.

"I've written him three different prescriptions, which should help clear out his infections, and he's need a shot of penicillin. He's really done a number on himself. I feel like it would be a good idea for Roy to start seeing a therapist." He handed both Dinah and Ollie a pamphlet, depicting signs of depression and anxiety along with several help lines. "He shows signs of being severely depressed, and I would recommend having him put on some kind of medication."

"That's a smart move." Ollie said sarcastically, "Let's give the brat _more_ drugs."

"I understand your concern Mr. Queen, but I feel that medication could help a lot in the long run. I'm very afraid that he may try this again; worse than that I'm afraid that he may succeed next time. There are also group therapy sessions that render specifically to teenagers, some of whom have gone through similar problems as your son."

"He isn't my son."

"That's one of the reasons why I feel Roy would benefit from therapy. The adoption process can be a lot for kids to go through, especially when they start getting older. I believe that Roy may have abandonment issues or feel like he doesn't fit in with your family, both of which are common for orphaned children to go through."

"He's not depressed," Ollie said with a shake of the head. "He's just drugged up. He'll be fine."

Dinah pushed herself in front of her fiancé, attempting as hard as she could not to scream at him in front of the doctor.

"What he means to say is that we'll talk it over with Roy. We don't want to force him to do something that he doesn't want to. Right now I think that our best bet is to get him home and let him get some rest."

She knew what Ollie was going to say, even if he wouldn't say it until they were alone. There was no therapist who Roy could safely discuss all of his problems with. He could talk about some things, but so much of what he was bottling up involved things that he couldn't discuss. Not without giving away his and Ollie's secret identities.

The doctor nodded, acting friendlier toward Dinah than he had toward Ollie. He trusted that she would find some way to give that boy the help that he so desperately needed…

* * *

><p>Roy struggled to keep his eyes open in the car; the medicine that he was given in the hospital had made him drowsy. He had also been warned that he may become lightheaded, but he had shot up in the streets enough times to become fairly immune to any bad feelings that the small dose of medicine would cause him.<p>

The drive was awkward, as no sound came from the mouths of any of the three heroes. Roy had finally managed to fuck up so badly that even Ollie didn't have a smartass comment about his idiotic actions. Dinah finally managed to break the silence.

"I feel it would be best for us all for you to continue staying at my place." She said to the exhausted redhead, not taking her eyes off the road. "I want you in a stress-free environment. I'm also locking up any and all medicine in my house."

"Shouldn't you have done that when you found out the kid was a druggie?" Ollie remarked.

"I don't want to hear another word out of your damn mouth." Dinah shot back, showing her frustration by a sudden burst of aggression in her driving habits.

"I'm just saying."

"Is that a word I'm hearing out of you?"

"Actually, it's three."

She swerved slightly while turning into the driveway, slamming the breaks as hard as she could and causing Ollie to hit his head on the windshield. She turned off the car and got out, opening the door for Roy and helping him to his feet.

"Just go home Oliver…" She said with little emotion. Why bother fighting him at this point? There were more important matters to attend to.

She helped Roy to the couch, brushing his bangs back.

"I don't want you shut behind a door anymore; I want to make sure that I can always be keeping an eye on you."

"What if I'm in the bathroom?"

"Nothing I haven't seen before. Leave the doors open, or I'll be forced to take them down."

She watched him role his eyes at her before laying down on the couch, sighing in irritation.

"It has to be this way." She said. "You almost died."

"If you didn't notice, that was kind of what I was going for."

"This is serious, Roy…" She said sternly, sitting next to him and putting a hand on his cheek. She was just trying to figure out what happened at this point. "I mean… suicide?" She said with a sigh. "I'm just trying to figure out why."

Roy rolled over, curling into a fetal position and burying his face into the backrest of the couch, planning on ignoring anything else that she was going to say. She shook her head, covering him with a blanket and remaining on the couch next to him. There was nothing else she could do at this point.

She just had to wait it out…


End file.
